Maufe. 'Tis like I may-but let na on what's past 'Tween you and me, elfe fear a kittle caft.

[and eild,

Bauldy. If I aught o' your fecrets e'er advance,
May ye ride on me ilka night to France. [Exit Bauldy.
Maufe. [Her lane.] Hard luck, alake! when poverty
Weeds out of fashion, and a lanely beild,
Wi'a fma' caft of wiles,' fhould in a twitch,
Gi'e ane the hatefu' name, a wrinkled witch.
This fool imagines as do mony fic,

That I'm a witch, in compact with auld Nick,
Because by education I was taught

To fpeak and act aboon their common thought.
Their grofs mistake fhall quickly now appear,

Soon fhall they ken what brought, what keeps me here.
Now fince the royal Charles, and right's reftor'd,
A fhepherdefs is daughter to a lord.

The bonny Foundling that's brought up by Glaud,
Wha has an uncle's care on her bestow'd,
Her infant life I fav'd, when a false friend
Bow'd to the ufurper, and her death defign'd;
To establish him and his in all thefe plains
That by right heritage to her 'pertains.

She's now in her fweet bloom, has blood and charms,
Of too much value for a shepherd's arms.

Nane kens't but me ;-and if the morn were come,

I'll tell them tales will gar them all fing dumb.

Patie and Peggy.

Peg. Oh, Patie, let me gang, I maunna ftay;
Were baith cry'd hame, and Jenny fhe's away.
Patie. I'm faith to part fae foon; now we're alane,
And Roger he's awa' wi' Jenny gane ;

They're as content, for aught I hear or fee,
To be alane themfelves, Ijudge, as we.

Here

Here, where primroses thickest paint the green,
Hard by this little burnie let us lean.

Hark how the lav'rocks chant aboon our heads,
How faft the weftlin winds fough through the reeds.
Peg. The fcented meadows, birds, and healthy breeze,
For aught I ken, may mair than Peggy please.
Patie. Ye wrang me fair, to doubt my being kind;
In fpeaking fae, ye ca' me dull and blind,
Gif I could fancy aught's fae fweet or fair
As my fweet Meg, or worthy of my care.
Thy breath is fweeter than the sweetest brier,
Thy cheek and breast the finest flow'rs appear.
Thy words excel the maist delightfu' notes,
That warble through the merl or mavis' throtes.
With thee I tent nae flowers that busk the field,
Or ripest berries that our mountains yield.
The fweetest fruits, that hing upon the tree,
Are far inferior to a kifs of thee.

Peg. But Patrick for fome wicked end may fleech,
And lambs should tremble when the foxes preach.
I darna ftay;-ye joker, let me gang,

Anither lafs may gar ye change your fang.

Patie. Sooner a mother fhall her fondness drap,
And wrang the bairn fits fmiling on her lap.

The fun fhall change, the moon to change fhall cease,
The gaits to clim-the fheep to yield the fleece,

Ere ought by me be either said or done,

Shall do thee wrang, I fwear by a' aboon.

Peggy. Then keep your aith-But mony lads will fwear,
And be manfworn to twa in half a year:
Now I believe ye like me wonder weel;
But if a fairer face your heart fhou'd steal,
Your Meg, forfaken, bootlefs might relate
How she was dauted anes by faithlefs Pate.

Patie. I'm fure I canna change, ye need na fear,
Though we're but young I loo'd you mony a year.
I mind it weel, when thou cou'dit hardly gang,
Or lifp out words, I choos'd ye frae the thrang
Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand
Aft to the tanfy-know or rafhly strand;
Thou fmiling by my fide-I took delite

To

pou

the rashes green, with roots fae white,

Of

Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd,
For thee I plet the flow'ry belt and food.

SANG X. Tune, The yellow hair'd ladie.
PEGGY.

When firft my dear ladie gade to the green-hill,
And I at ew-milking firft fey'd my young skill,
To bear the milk-bowie nae pain was to me,
When I at the boughting forgather'd wi' thee.
PATIE.

When corn-riggs wav'd yellow, and blue hether-bells,
Bloom'd bonny on moorland and fweet rifing fells,
Nae birus, briers, or breckens, gave trouble to me,
If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee.

PEGGY.

When thou ran, or wrestled, or putted the ftane,
And came aff the victor, my heart was ay fain;
Thy ilka fport manly gave pleafure to me;
For nane can putt, wrestle, or run swift as thee,
PATIE

Our Jenny fings faftly the Cowden-broom-knows,
And Rofie lilts fweetly the Milking the ews,
There's few Jenny Nettles like Nanfy can fing,
At Throw the. Wood Laddie, Befs gars our lugs ring.

But when my dear Peggy fings, with better skill,
The Boatman, Tweed-fide, or the lafs of the Mill,
'Tis
many times fweeter and pleasing to me;
For though they fing nicely, they cannot like thee.
PEGGY.

How eafy can laffes trow what they defire!
And praifes fae kindly increases love's fire;
Give me ftill this pleasure, my study shall be
To make myself better and sweeter for thee.

Peggy. When first thou gade wi' fhepherds to the hill, And I to milk the ews first try'd my skill,

To bear a leglen was nae toil to me,

When at the bught at e'en I met with thee,

Patie. When corns grew yellow, and the hether-bells

Bloom'd bonny on the moor and rifing fells,

Nae

Nae birns, or briers, or whims e'er troubled me,
Gif I cou'd find blae berries ripe for thee.

Peggy. When thou didft wrestle, run, or put the ftane, And wan the day, my heart was flightering fain: At a' thae fports thou ftill. gave joy to me; For nane can wrestle, run, or put with thee.

Patie. Jenny fings faft the Broom of Cowdenknows,
And Rofie lilts the Milking of the Ews;
There's nane like Nanfie, Jenny Nettles fings:
At turns in Maggy Lauder, Marion dings :
But when my Peggy fings, wi' sweeter skill
The Boatman, or the Lafs of Patie's Mill;
It is a thousand times mair sweet to me,

Though they fing well, they canna fing like thee.
Peggy. How eith can laffes trow what they defire,
And roos'd, by them we love, blaws up that fire:
But wha loves beft, let time and carriage try;
Be constant, and my love fhall time defy.
Be ftill as now, and a' my care fhall be,
How to contrive what pleasant is for thee.

Patie. Wert thou a giglit gawky like the lave,
That little better than our nowt behave:
At naught they'll ferly,-fenfelefs tales believe,
Be blyth for filly hechts, for trifles grieve-
Sic ne'er could win my heart, that kenna how
Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true.
But thou, in better fenfe, without a flaw,
As in thy beauty, far excels them a'.
Continue kind, and a' my care fhall be,
How to contrive what pleafing is for thee.

Peg. Agreed; but hearken, yon's auld aunty's cry, I ken they'll wonder what can inak us stay.

Patie. And let them ferly, now a kindly kifs,

Or fivefcore good anes wad not be amifs

And fyne we'll fing the fong with tunefu' glee,
That I made up laft owk on you and me.
Peg. Sing firft, fyne claim your hire-
Patie. Well I agree.

SANG

SANG XI.

PATIE [Sings.]

By the delicious warmnefs of thy mouth,
And rowing eye that fmiling tells the truth,
I guefs, my laffie, that, as well as I.

Ye're made for love, and why fhould ye deny ?
PEGGY [Sings.)

But ken ye, lad, gin we confefs o'er foon,
Ye think us cheap, and fyne the wooing's done :
The maiden that o'er quickly tynes her pow'r,
Like unripe fruit will tafte but hard and fowr.
PATIE [Sings.]

But gin they hing o'er lang upon the tree,
Their sweetness they may tine, and sae may ye.
Red-cheeked ye completely ripe appear,
And I have thol'd and woo'd a lang ha'f-year.
PEGGY [Sings, falling into Patie's arms.]

Then dinna pou' me, gently thus I fa'
Into my Patie's arms for good and a':
But stint your wishes to this kind embrace,
And mint nae farrer, till we've got the grace.

PATIE [with his left hand about her waift.]
Oh, charming armfu', hence, ye cares, away;
I'll kiss my treasure a' the live-lang day,
A' night I'll dream my kiffes o'er again,
'Till that day come that ye'll be a' my
Sung by both.

Sun, gallop down the westlin skies,
Gang foon to bed, and quickly rife;
Oh, lafh your fteeds, poft time away,
And hafte about our bridal day;
And, if ye're weary'd, honeft light,
Sleep, gin ye like, a week that night.

ain.

END of the SECOND ACT.

ACT